


Not Just A Game

by afteriwake



Series: Love Is Like [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Murder Mystery, Relationship Advice, Ruined Surprise, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, birthday surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly planned a murder hunt to celebrate Sherlock’s birthday but unbeknownst to her an actual murder is committed and the clues she laid out lead Sherlock to stop an actual murderer before he potentially kills his next victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chitarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chitarra/gifts), [MagsyB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagsyB/gifts), [long_live_the_dead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/long_live_the_dead/gifts).



> So this fic answers quite a few prompts. The original prompt was given to me anonymously ages ago on my Tumblr and said " _Molly arrange a murder hunt (like a treasure hunt) for sherlock as an anniversary gift and they end up catching a real killer before he commits the murder (sorry for any misspelled english isn't my first language)._ " It sat in my inbox for a long time until it was claimed by **Chitarra** for my Spring Cleaning Fic Prompt Claim challenge, and then sat a _little_ while longer until **BumbleBeeBubblez** prompted me with a sentence starter from [this list](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/139995233693/writing-prompts) and the ship Sherlolly. I made a slight change to make it fit for this series and made it for his birthday instead of an anniversary, but otherwise it still works pretty well. Hope you all enjoy!

She pushed the coffee mug closer to him. He eyed it, just a bit warily, before picking it up. He knew what the day was, all too well. He had said he wanted no special treatment, nothing special, and certainly no parties, but there was a glint in Molly’s eyes she couldn’t quite hide. A sparkle there that meant all too well that he was in for…something.

She had planned something for his birthday today.

He _should_ be upset. His birthday was an occasion he would prefer to ignore than acknowledge on the best of years, and this was, admittedly, one of the best of years even if it had just started. Even with the spectre of Moriarty hanging over them, what he had with Molly made him quite happy. Happier than he had been in many many years, to be quite honest. And the fact she was doing something for him which, he assumed, she had put quite a bit of time and effort into…he supposed he couldn’t be too upset. He’d let it run its course and then later he’d pretend to be upset and see if he could convince her to use the handcuffs he owned as “punishment.”

 _That_ could be an enjoyable end to whatever she had planned for them this evening.

After a moment she pulled her own mug closer. “So Sally was telling me about a series of robberies and whatnot on Shaftesbury Avenue,” she said, trying to sound conversational. “She and Greg are stumped for motive.”

Ah. So it looked as though it might be a little hunt. Perhaps a murder hunt, if he was lucky. That was actually a rather thoughtful gift, he thought to himself as he tried to keep a smile off his face. “Not really my thing, but I suppose as a favour to Lestrade I could give it a—”

The door to Baker Street opened and Molly’s eyes widened. Neither of them had expected company; he’d gotten the feeling she’d arranged with Mrs. Hudson to take care of morning coffee and breakfast, and so she was wearing nothing but black lace knickers and one of his university T-shirts. _He_ certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone, and with the thunderous sound of footsteps they’d be up any minute. He stood quickly and motioned for her to go into the kitchen and stand behind the worktop. She did and he began to remove his dressing gown as Lestrade and Sally came in. “Sorry to barge in like this, but we need your help.”

“You were supposed to wait!” Molly hissed as Sherlock got his dressing gown off and then handed it to Molly. She slipped it off and then pulled it tight around her, tying the belt tight around her waist.

“Sorry, Mols, but the game turned into the real thing,” Sally said. “We got the call that there was a body at The Theatre Café. At first the staff member thought it was for the murder hunt and so they left it be for a half hour but when there was no movement at all they checked for a pulse and found none. _Then_ your actor showed up.”

“Bloody hell,” Molly said, her eyes wide.

Lestrade nodded. “The circle who knew about the lead-up to dinner tonight was pretty small. Just a handful of staff at each location, the company setting it up, you, me, Sally, John and Mary. But what we’re worried is that someone might be using the information to make a _real_ murder hunt. Or not a murder hunt, exactly, but using it to cover up their own crimes.”

“Do you have the other locations picked out?” Sherlock asked.

“There was only supposed to be two bodies. Well, sort of,” Molly said. “There was the one at the café, which started everything, then clues that would lead you all over London, and then eventually you’d end up at the Thai Square Covent Garden in time to stop the second murder, and then we’d surprise you with a party there.” Molly sighed. “It had been a good idea, too. I hate that some tosser had to ruin it.”

“I’m sure I would have enjoyed it,” Sherlock said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of Molly’s head. Then he turned to Lestrade. “All right. Let Molly and I get dressed and then we’ll head with you to the café. It’s best to start there. Then I want to talk to the people involved in helping Molly plan the murder hunt, and I want to know every detail of what I was supposed to do.”

Lestrade nodded. “We’ll get in touch with the company and have them halt the plans.”

Sherlock thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Don’t halt them, but have police presence nearby. Undercover police presence, to be safe. Don’t want to spook anyone. Once I know more details, we’ll see what starts to form for motive.” He turned to Molly. “Feel like doing a field examination for me?”

“I suppose,” she said with a nod. The two of them moved away from the kitchen towards Sherlock’s bedroom. “I’m sorry the surprise got ruined in such an awful way. I know you didn’t want a surprise at all, and then for this to happen…”

He crowded her slightly until her back was pressed against the wall of the hallway and bent his head to kiss her. After a moment she reached forward and clutched his pyjama top in her hands as he moved his hands to her waist to help keep her up as the kiss became more heated. “I normally abhor my birthday but the fact you put such time and effort into this surprise means a lot to me,” he said when he pulled away, his lips hovering over hers. “I’m sure tonight we’ll find a way to ensure the evening ends well.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will too,” she said, letting go of his shirt to lay her hands on his chest. “I may let myself be at your mercy, if you want."

“That would be a suitable gift,” he said, giving her another kiss, though a much briefer one this time. “Unfortunately, it will have to wait. We have a killer to catch and a party to salvage, and I’ll need the help of the most brilliant pathologist in the whole of the UK.”

She smiled up at him. “I’ll make sure she’s at your beck and call.” She gave him one last kiss, a quick peck on the lips, and then scooted away from him and headed towards his bedroom. He watched her leave with a grin on his face. She hadn’t intended for the day to become a _real_ murder hunt, but in some ways, that was an even better present. He just hoped it didn’t spoil the dinner planned for this evening. He was rather in the mood for Thai tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

The person who had discovered the body was no help; she had been so shaken she had been nearly at her wits end, and even with Molly there, speaking with her in calming tones, hadn’t done much to get information out of her. In the end they’d sent her off to the break room with her boss to get her settled. The victim and the crime scene had given a bit more. The body and the scene had been staged differently than the scene Molly had set up, but the staff member hadn’t been privy to the exact detail so nothing had seemed amiss. But Molly had caught the discrepancies immediately and began pointing them out in detail.

That helped, in his mind, to narrow down the people who could be involved. It had to be someone who was involved in today’s production, who was using it as a cover. It seemed, from what he had been told, to be a thriving business that had popped up when his own popularity had rose. People wanted to “become the next Sherlock Holmes,” he’d been told, and the opportunity to host a murder hunt for the _real_ Sherlock Holmes had been too good to pass up.

But perhaps someone had thought to make it more challenging.

He wasn’t sure if it was a sick game he’d gotten caught in the middle of or a challenge for him to solve. Either way, he wasn’t pleased. He didn’t like people who played sick games with other people’s lives; they were some of the most despicable people in the world, as far as he was concerned. It was what had made him despise Moriarty and Magnussen so much. They saw people as pawns. Just because they didn’t always outright kill the people they shuffled around didn’t make them any better than the murderers he hunted. They were all scum, as far as he was concerned, just at different levels.

Ones like this, however, who made a game out of it…they were _dangerous_ scum.

He had to admit, everyone at the first few locations were quite keen to stick with the script until Molly, Lestrade and Sally made it quite clear that the game was over and it as a _real_ murder they were now hunting for the clues for. That loosened lips quite a bit more, and people were more willing to tell things that they hadn’t been willing to say more, relate feelings of uneasiness, say things they would normally have kept to themselves for the chance to be a part of a murder hunt involving Sherlock Holmes himself.

By noon he had the case solved, and it was with great satisfaction that he and Molly stood outside The Theatre Café and saw the manager being taken out in handcuffs. Molly turned to him, a small frown on her face and her eyebrows furrowed. “But…I don’t understand?”

“The victim, your colleague Dr. Cheng at Barts informed me once the heavy makeup to make it look like there was bruising on the face was removed, was the owner of the building that the manager said he would take the waitress to if she needed to go lie down. There has been a dispute of selling ownership of the building. The manager is one of the other owners of the building. It only took a few calls to find out that the manager was in favor of selling for a fat profit while the victim wanted to keep it. There was one other owner who wanted to keep it. I had the feeling that he might have become a victim of foul play this evening and end up the second victim in this murder plot so I sent a discrete call to Dimmock and had him set watch on the third owner. Forty minutes ago an associate of the killer tried to murder that third owndr and is now currently telling everything he knows.” 

“You’re brilliant,” Molly said with a smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“And all done within a few hours,” he said, checking his watch. “Four hours, thirty-three minutes, to be precise. Not quite a record by the company’s standard, but close.”

“Well, I do still believe it should be rewarded,” she said, reaching over for his hand. “I did say something about being at your mercy this morning?”

“So you did,” he replied. He took her hand as they moved away from the cafe. “I quite enjoyed having you work with me. It’s been a long time since the case where I came back from Serbia.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“We should do it more often, I think. I would enjoy that greatly.” He looked over at her. “If you’re in the mood to give presents, a promise that you would offer your time and expertise on occasion would be a good present.”

“Better than a murder hunt?” she asked with a smile.

“Well, seeing as how this didn’t go as planned…” he began. She laughed and moved closer to him, and he let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders. “We do work well together, though, to return to the subject at hand. You have a way about you that I admire. And your eye for detail is exquisite.”

“But you have John,” she pointed out.

“Not as often,” he said. “And who’s to say I can’t have two assistants? Sometimes I’ll use his help, sometimes I’ll use yours. It can all depend on the particulars of the case, if you want.”

“All right. I suppose it won’t hurt to help you,” she said, looking up with him at a smile. “Just don’t think it goes both ways and you can help me with post mortems now.”

“No, I will leave that to my expert,” he said.

“So now I’m _your_ expert?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, though she had a grin on her face.

“You’ve always been my pathologist,” he said. “Why do you think Stamford kept you working so many shifts when he knew I’d be at Barts? Not just because he knew you were infatuated with me, but he knew I tolerated you more than the others. I…had a soft spot for you, even if it wasn’t obvious to everyone.”

“I see,” she said. “And now?”

“Well now, you’re my everything,” he said simply.

“Mmm,” she said, stopping and moving so she was in front of him, grabbing the lapels of his coat. “I’ve turned you into a sap, haven’t I?”

“You might have,” he admitted.

“You should probably do a better job hiding that.”

“Should I?” he said, moving his hands to her waist and pulling her close.

She nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“Perhaps,” he said, ducking his head down and kissing her. They had time until the party this evening, he thought to himself. For now, he would show her just how true those words were. And then, perhaps, he might make a more meaningful declaration. Not a marriage proposal; it was too soon for that, but…something.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner at Thai Square Covent Garden had been quite pleasant. He and Molly had arrived a bit later than planned, to the knowing looks of their guests, but it had been worth it. His afternoon had been pleasantly spent with Molly at Baker Street, mostly in bed doing mutually pleasurable activities, and it had been while she dozed for a bit in his arms that he realized he liked this. He liked having her there, and he'd like her to be there on a more regular basis.

Perhaps...on a more _permanent_ basis.

He'd kept the thought to himself as they got ready, moving together in his flat with ease. She could fit there. She already fit well into is life; she fit seamlessly, actually, the way John had when he had lived there. It was in a _different_ way, obviously, but the concept was still the same. He hadn't thought about sharing Baker Street again until the previous month, around the close call at the docks, but now...well, now he didn't just want her to have a few things there. He wanted her there all the time, if she was willing. Every morning, every night.

He didn't bring it up during dinner, instead entertaining everyone, with Lestrade, Sally and Molly's help, with recounting the events of this morning. The guest list for the evening was small; Mary and John were there, as was Mrs. Hudson and her significant other, Mr. Chatterjee. Molly had extended an invitation to his brother and his assistant, and to his parents as well, and he was surprised that all four had attended, and not only that were all trying _not_ to embarrass him; clearly they had all taken quite the liking to Molly after Christmas. He was glad for that.

It was a pleasant dinner, and afterward Mary had suggested that she, John, Sherlock and Molly bid the others a good evening and go out and do something together. His parents only agreed if Molly and Sherlock agreed to accompany them to the theatre that weekend, as they had roped Mycroft into doing something with them earlier, and Sherlock said that was fine. They left the restaurant and looked at the other offerings on Shaftesbury Avenue and finally decided just to walk and see what interested them. Mary and Molly walked ahead, talking animatedly, while Sherlock and John brought up the rear.

“I think I'm going to ask Molly to move into Baker Street,” Sherlock said quietly after a few moments of silence.

John nodded approvingly. “Kind of wondered when that might happen,” he said.

“You don't think it's too soon?” he asked, turning to face his friend. “We only just moved items of clothing and toiletries into each others homes.”

John was quiet for a moment. “You two don't have the most typical of relationships,” John said. “I mean, in a way it is, in that you've dated and you didn't jump right into the sack or start living together immediately or anything like that. But...your brother scared off any potential suitors she might have had, and you thought you were dating when you weren't, and she's fancied you for _years_ and was going to marry a bloke who was really just a subpar substitute for you.”

“Yes, I can see how we haven't exactly had the most typical of courtships,” he admitted.

“But she loves you so much,” John said with a grin. “And you feel the exact same way about her. It's so clearly written on both of your faces. I mean, to be quite honest, you could probably ask her to marry you and I think she'd say yes before you finish the proposal.”

“It's too soon for that,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, I know that and you know that and I think even she knows that, too,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Doesn't mean she wouldn't say yes.” He paused. “Doesn't mean I don't think you've considered it, maybe, in the _way_ back of your mind.”

He stayed quiet at that. Possibly, maybe, he had. He just wasn't about to admit that to John. “Do you really think she'd give up her flat, though? I mean, it's uniquely her, while Baker Street is very much...me.”

“Are you willing to change Baker Street to fit more of her, though?” John asked, Then he tilted his head. “Let me back up a moment. Have you even run this by Mrs. Hudson yet?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just really thought about it this afternoon. I mean, the part about having her live with me at Baker Street, not having us be together more often. Since day one of us spending the night at each others residences, I've realized I prefer that to spending the night alone.”

“It is much better, isn't it?” John said with a grin.

“Much,” Sherlock agreed.

John rubbed his chin slightly. “I'd say talk to Mrs. Hudson about what she'll let you do to the flat and what she won't before you broach the idea to Molly. I mean, if she'll let you repaint or put up fresh wallpaper, make it your own a bit more, Molly might be inclined. But...could you also consider giving up being in Baker Street? I mean, if Mrs. Hudson leaves, England might fall. But what if you leave?”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, watching Molly laugh at something Mary said. He would prefer to stay in his home, prefer to stay at Baker Street, but if Molly insisted, perhaps he could grow to call some other place home. Build a new life someplace else with her. “It's my home,” he said quietly. “I suppose I could consider starting fresh someplace else, though.”

“It might come to that,” John said. “But...Molly's an understanding woman. She knows how much that place means to you. I'm sure you can sort things out.” He clapped a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Sherlock looked over at him. Perhaps this was not the best idea after all. Maybe...maybe it was too soon. He would have to put more thought into this. But for now, they had their current arrangement, and it would suffice. He could come up with some other way to show that he wanted to make a declaration to her that he had chosen her and wanted to be with her and only her.


End file.
